Notes From The North: The Poetry of Place

High above the waters of the Sheepscot at the headtide, the Osprey hovers in the mist of early morning, gathering Spring sun with each sweep of wind, and drops without a cry upon the rushing river. The wings shake and the talons reach deep below the surface for the salmon smote, wings beat air and water as the bird pulls himself back into the air.

We have been watching and waiting for the return of the Osprey and all this bird fore-tells of the advancing season. Alewives are reported in the Eastern rivers, branch of the Kennebec, and soon to be in the Damariscotta Mills Run.

The Glass Eels are running up the rivers and bringing 2000 dollars a pound to the lucky fishermen with a license. These are the young of the American Eel, which is food source for most game fish, lobsters, and a host of other marine life. The Glass Eels are shipped to Asia live, the fishermen pay their mortgage and buy new trucks, the Asians eat eel and the rest of the ocean ecology goes to hell.

Old Story.

For now, Pandion the Osprey will hover and fall, feed its young and have to reach ever deeper into the waters of the Sheepscot to find life.

Win Brooks, Alna, Maine